Seasons
by Quibblette
Summary: If Hermione Granger was to write an account of her love life, it would go like this: There once was a girl called Hermione. She fell in love with a prat. See, it was 7th year, and her nonrelationship was still marked by arguments.


If Hermione Granger was to write a short account of her love life, it would go something like this:

There once was a girl called Hermione. She had bushy hair, was a trifle too intelligent for her own good, and had a wonderful talent of falling for boys she couldn't for the life of her understand. There was one particular boy who unfortunately thought she was a complete nutcase. And although they were friends for a very long time, he possessed the same level of emotional sensitivity as that of the pet rock she had when she was 5.

No, scrap that, at least the pet rock had the decency to look rather grey and downtrodden when she cried.

But such is life.

See, it was her last year at Hogwarts, and her non-relationship was still marked by arguments.

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Argument 1…

She was just happily sitting by the lake one day, glaring at Terry Boot and his girlfriend, Clemence something or other, who were happily lying against a damn tree which was happily providing homes to damn birds who were happily singing of damn bloody spring.

It wasn't that she had anything against the two; but the fact that they were in a relationship, when clearly relationships were for self-indulged insensitive people, was a sin she couldn't forgive. After all, what thoughtful person would show such public displays of affection just to spite poor single people who happened to be madly in love with clueless prats who wouldn't know what love was if it SWAT rolled into his morning porridge.

Oh. Speak of the devil.

"Hey, Hermione. Looking so glum today."

No shit, Sherlock. Ron got a glare for that.

"Well ummm…oh, how bout some flowers, ey? All girls like flowers."

"Ron. Dandelions are a weed."

"Oh geeze, sorry for trying. Cheer up, will you."

"Why, Ron? Aren't I allowed to be depressed if I want to? Who died and made you the God of Emotions?"

"Right then. I'll give you a knife next time I see you upset, shall I? One less psycho for the world."

Silence.

Did he just mean- ?

"Hermione…I'm sorry."

"Hermione..."

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Argument 2…

She was pretty sure it wasn't his fault that the girls at Hogwarts were such man-eaters. And she was pretty sure that it wasn't his fault that the summer just happened to be a ridiculously hot one. Or that Harry and Seamus had decided to go for a swim in the lake.

But it was most certainly his fault that he took his shirt off.

Because really now, there was no need for that. Just because there were girls around, and you were single, and you happened to have an exceptionally toned body from Quidditch, ahem, not that she was looking, of course. But just because of all that. That was no reason to take off your shirt.

And thanks to his lovely little display of male ego, there were now girls harassing her.

"Hermy…do you think you could put in a good word with Ron for me?"

"Oh wow, Hermione. So THIS is what you've been keeping to yourself for so long."

Actually, she was desperately wishing she had had this to keep to herself. Because it wasn't very often that she saw Ron like this…and wow…and oh god…would the girls just stop talking about him like he was a piece of meat, because he most certainly wasn't. And even if he was, he would rightfully be HER piece of meat seeing as how she was his long-time best friend and all. And oh this was going to drive her insane.

"RONALD!"

"Yes, Hermione, dearest?"

"These imbalanced girls would like to know if you'd do them the honour of shagging them six ways to Sunday".

"Hahahah. Oh HERMIONE! We never said that. Hehehehe."

That worked nicely. Embarrassed now, you damn Amazons? Yes, that's right. Walk away and pretend I'm mad.

"What was that all about?"

"They were vexing me."

"Why?"

"Because they wouldn't shut up about you."

"And…what? So you decided it was your place to embarrass them and play my mother now did you?"

"Oh, that's nice. Put them ahead of me. I'm glad I know where I stand."

"Hermione, you're being a psycho."

She was being jealous. There was a difference. Honestly.

"Well I'm sorry you feel that way, Ron! Perhaps next time you ought to tell your crazy groupies that I'm not your personal secretary!"

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Argument 3…

"Will you just get off my back for once? Copernicus' sakes, woman! There's more to life than your bloody books and your bloody grades and your bloody obsessions, you know!"

"And the only way to achieve them is by going well in your NEWTs, Ron!"

"No it's not! God. No wonder you didn't want to go to the ball. No one'd have you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're an insufferable know-it-all sometimes, you know that? And I'd be damned if I know a sane guy who'd put up with it. Lucky you went stag or else you'd probably have told the poor bloke to leave early so you could study!"

She would NOT justify that.

Would not remember the way he'd looked in his black dress robes and that top hat and the way the autumn leaves falling from the ceiling had made his hair look even more beautiful and his pale skin seem almost like porcelain. Or the way Susan Bones had looked…hanging off his arm…laughing, looking at him like he was hers and hers only.

Which he was.

And the way she just wanted to die right then. Because if he was Susan's then he couldn't be hers. And if he couldn't be hers then she wasn't quite sure she wanted to be anyone's.

But no. Ron wasn't beautiful. He was a prat. She didn't care. He insulted her. He was going to end up living on a pension in the backstreets somewhere because he was too lazy to lift a finger and work.

Merlin, she'd happily live in a cardboard box if it meant she'd get to spend the rest of her life with him.

"For your information, Ron, I declined all seven invitations under the foolish hope that someone in particular would ask me. And if what you say is true then at least now you've fortunately put me off men for life."

"What's that supposed t-? Wait. _WHICH_ SOMEONE IN PARTICULAR?"

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Argument 4…

She'd always loved winter. It meant blankets and hot chocolate and good reading weather. Recently it'd also come to reflect her general feelings. Winter was cold and bleak. As was her pitiful loveless existence.

"Will you just listen to me, Hermione?"

Yes, cold and bleak summed up her love life nicely. She was marching down some corridor late at night because Ron couldn't seem to understand the nice little concept of personal space.

"I think you've done enough listening for the both of us, Ron."

"Could I help it if you and Seamus were talking so damn loudly in MY dorm?"

"You could help barging in and punching him. Anyways, it's his dorm too."

"That's not the POINT!"

"Well, what IS the point, Ron?"

Silence.

Yes, that was right. How dare he stand there all tall and angry, and looking so indignant and upset that she just wanted to kiss him there and then. Because he was Ron, and the thought of plain Hermione Granger being able to make Ron Weasley so emotional was starting to make her a shiver just a little.

Oh no, that was just the snow.

Great. She had no coat, and she was walking in the snow, getting chased by a heartless prat.

"Not everything has to have a point, Hermione."

Lovely answer. Brownie points for the stupidest reply to a question and a million points for squashing all hopes.

"Well this does, Ron. The point? The damn point is that you can't go around, scaring off guys that show a smidgen of interest in me, okay? Because I'm not your property. I'm not your little sister or your girlfriend or anything that might give you some control over me. And you know what the point is, Ron? The point is that I wasn't going to say yes to him. You heard the 'Seamus, you're such a sweet guy'? You know what was going to follow that? What was going to follow that was 'but I'm sorry, I like someone else'."

Oh yes, look guilty. Damn insensitive clueless prat.

"Not that that would've made much of a difference, would it? Hmmm? Because you know how long I've loved you, Ronald? 4 damn years. I have been in love with you for 4 years and I highly doubt you care. So the point is that if you're not going to do something about it, at least give me the dignity of being able to settle for some guy who's interested in me. Because if you don't care, which appears to be the case, I would very much like to at least have someone for my own and ignore the fact their presence won't make me light up the way yours does, or that their grin isn't going to be as heartbreakingly adorable as yours, or that I'm not going to wish with every fibre of my being that I could just spend one more minute with them because every minute away is a minute too long. Okay? I am very capable of ignoring all that. So just try being a little considerate for once and let me at least pretend that the thought of me never being able to have you doesn't make me cry myself to sleep."

Oh. Merlin. She did NOT say that out loud.

"Hermione…"

Obviously she had.

He was standing there. Very very still. Staring at her.

And then she was running back to the castle. Because she didn't think she could bare what would come next. The "well, you're a great FRIEND Hermione" and the "Oh…well…umm"'s. No, not after seeing him like that. So tall and close and beautiful and…Ron. She couldn't have it hit home so harshly. Have every single little hope turned into a wish.

She was crying now, but what did it matter anyway. There was going to be a hell of a lot more of it to follow. Perhaps she'd go to Seamus. Perhaps he'd still want her and she'd be able to just forget about loving Ron, and wanting him, and…everything.

Oh, who was she kidding. She needed him.

"Hermione?"

Damn long legs and sporty people. She braced herself. This wasn't going to be good.

"I…."

She blinked back her tears. Perhaps she should just say it for him. After all, she'd been dreading this moment for long enough.

Or not.

Oh, most definitely not.

He was standing there, panting from the run and looking very very determined. And then…he was right in front of her, and his arms were around her and he was holding her so close she could feel the warmth coming from him despite the cold. And then oh, the best thing in the world.

He was kissing her. She wasn't quite sure how they ended up quite like that, but as long as he didn't pull away soon then that was fine by her. And oh, there was his hand, playing with her hair and he was so tall, and so strong, and so THERE.

He was there, with her, his mouth against hers.

Hmmm…she could get used to this.

Oh no. He was pulling away…

"I…I'm sorry. I'm a prat. I love you. Should've told you that every day since the moment I met you."

She smiled. That was okay. He was allowed to pull away for that.

He leaned in again.

Oh yes she'd always loved winter.


End file.
